


you don't have to run

by brilligspoons



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Children, Communication, Domestic, F/F, Fluff, Future Fic, Married Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 15:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5010400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilligspoons/pseuds/brilligspoons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison is prepared for many things. This is not one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you don't have to run

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alley_Skywalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this, Alley_Skywalker!
> 
> So many thank-yous to my beta. <3
> 
> Title comes from One Direction's "Through the Dark."

Lydia is primarily comprised of equal parts pure evil and brilliant strategic planning, so, in retrospect, Allison doesn't feel like she should've been surprised by the timing of this conversation.

"We should start thinking about kids," Lydia says as Allison pants her way through the aftershocks of orgasm number two.

Allison hopes the sudden, sharp exhalation of breath following Lydia's statement comes across as _gosh that was such good sex_ and not _oh god time to panic_. "You mean, like, the general concept of kids?" she asks, staring resolutely up at the ceiling. "I thought we, you know. Covered that. Before the whole marriage...thing happened."

"Mmm," Lydia replies, though it's impossible to tell whether she's agreeing or just reacting to the hand Allison's now running through her hair in an attempt to throw her off course. "I meant it in the practical logistics of procuring way."

"Right. Let's think about that for a bit, but later." Allison tugs on Lydia's hair until she moves close enough to kiss her. She smiles and licks her lips when they part, watches Lydia track the movement. "Now, why don't I lay back and you move a little further up here for me?"

***

In the week following The Pillow Talk Incident, Allison sees four new billboard ads about hospital maternity wards on the highway leading into the city, twenty commercials for various organic baby food brands, and an enormous poster advertising a sale on diapers in the window at the grocery store. Additionally, she endures multiple stories every day from her coworkers about their children's illnesses, activities, after-school programs, and hobbies. She even spends a solid half hour listening to the office receptionist debate midwives versus OB/GYNs with the magazine's assistant creative director—and she's still not sure if there's any actual benefit to choosing one over the other.

Basically, Allison is calling bullshit on the universe.

_Lydia sprung the idea of having kids on me during sex the other night and now all everyone around me can talk about is babies,_ she texts Scott.

_lol,_ he writes back, which is not the response she was looking for, to be honest.

Usually a firm proponent of sleeping in for as long as possible without the threat of being late for work, Allison leaves the house the Friday after The Incident an hour before Lydia's first alarm is set to go off. She spends the entire drive listening to conservative talk radio and yelling obscenities whenever the hosts say especially terrible things, and then agonizes over whether or not she should order her regular coffee or splurge on a latte. When she wanders into the office an hour and a half early, her coworkers look at her askance. There must be something in her expression that warns them not to say anything about it, though, because it's nearly ten o'clock before Allison is asked anything not related to the magazine.

"My weekend?" Allison blanks on an appropriate answer.

"You and your wife always seem to have interesting plans, is all," the receptionist says after an awkward pause. "Benefits of a child-free lifestyle! Must be nice. I can't remember the last time my spouse and I went hiking, or slept in past seven, for that matter."

Allison knows he doesn't mean anything by it, but a lump forms in her throat all the same. She grabs her wallet and phone and rushes out of the office, mumbling what she hopes is an excuse about needing to run an emergency errand. Knowing her luck, it probably sounded more like _sorry, I need to find a cliff to hurl myself off of, be right back_.

***

There's something to be said for ex-significant others who eventually turn into good friends, Allison thinks. It's not always possible, or even advisable. Most of her boyfriends before Scott had been decent people in general, but she wouldn't consider any of them friends now—she keeps up with a few of them via Facebook when she remembers she has an account, but she wouldn't want to have coffee with any of them regularly (or, in one specific case, be seen with them in public at all). Not that her and Scott's relationship hadn't been strained and awkward post-breakup, but luckily for them, spending a huge portion of the latter half of their high school experience dodging various supernatural threats and nearly dying once or twice mitigates a lot of that weirdness. They'd ended up going to the same university, and even roomed together for a few years before Lydia proposed to Allison and Scott moved back to Beacon Hills. Now they only see each other every other week when Scott is in town to visit Kira while she's finishing up her degree.

Thus, the bi-weekly Friday lunch before he drives back to Beacon Hills.

"Call me crazy," Scott says between big bites of his bacon cheeseburger, "but aren't kids something you talk about before you get married?"

"We did," Allison reminds him. She jabs her plastic fork into a crouton and sighs when one of the tines breaks off. She puts the fork down on the table next to the salad box, idly wondering if she has enough time to go back to the counter and order a sandwich instead. "We had a whole pros-and-cons spreadsheet for it, and you know how Lydia feels about spreadsheets. It was very elaborate and detailed."

"I do," he replies, "and I'm sure it was. But it sounds to me like you've maybe changed your mind."

Allison scowls at him. "Not really. I want kids, and now that our lives have quieted down a bit and we're getting on with our careers and all, it's kind of the perfect time to actually have them."

Scott nods and says, "Okay, so you're panicking. Pretty sure that's a natural reaction to a dramatic, life-changing event. Remember the morning of your wedding?"

"I prefer not to."

He grins. "Man, you're kind of lucky that was all projectile, because otherwise your dress wouldn't have made it."

"Oh my god, Scott, _focus_. Please."

Scott shrugs and takes another bite of burger. Allison supposes he has a point, despite her reluctance to admit it. She and Lydia have been married for almost three years, and if she recalls the spreadsheet correctly (which she does, because Lydia casually attached the document to their email thread just this morning, causing her to spend her entire morning clicking through all its various tabs), this is about the time Lydia marked down as "Pregnancy Talks, Phase Two: Practicalities." Allison suddenly regrets not setting up a calendar alert for this. She would've appreciated more warning, is the thing.

She says as much out loud to Scott.

"Look, I doubt Lydia's making an appointment at a fertility clinic or the children's home for tomorrow," he says. "You should ask her about it, find out what she's thinking, then figure out what you both need to do to get on the same page."

Allison stares at him for a beat, then grins. "That was so wise of you," she tells him. "I'm impressed, McCall."

"What can I say," Scott says. "It's like I'm an adult and have actual life experience or something."

***

Allison takes her time driving home after work so she can practice the way she's going to begin the conversation ("Lydia, I love you, and I don't want you to think—ugh, no, that's too wishy-washy..."). Of course, this turns out to be a waste of time, seeing as her mind goes completely blank when she walks inside to find Lydia sitting in the living room without even a book to camouflage the appearance of lying in wait. Allison pauses in the doorway.

"Hi," she says after a brief hesitation, taking care to sound upbeat rather than terrified.

"Hi," Lydia says. "How was work?"

"It was fine. The usual." Allison risks moving closer and leans against the back of the sofa across from her. "Um. Are we—"

"About to have a conversation on the topic of you freaking out about us having kids? Yes."

Allison sighs and walks over to the over-sized armchair Lydia occupies, and fits herself into the remaining empty space beside her. She tentatively reaches out a hand and smiles when Lydia immediately takes it. "Before you say anything," she begins, "I do want kids. I haven't changed my mind about that part of it."

Lydia nods. After a brief pause, she leans further into Allison's side and says, "I'd worried about that. We didn't talk about it at all for so long, and then the second I brought it up, you freaked out on me."

Allison considers her words carefully before speaking again. She knows that Lydia would give her all the chances in the world to explain herself, but she wants to get it right the first time. This week has felt more wrong, more off-center, than any of the arguments they've had as a couple, and if she can avoid it in the future, she damn well will.

"These past few years have been so quiet," Allison says. "I moved around a lot as a kid. We spent so much of our high school years figuring out the supernatural stuff that we rarely went a day without a crisis. And then college happened and we all drifted apart, and then we reconnected, and you and I started dating and got married, and—the last four years have been the happiest and most stable of my entire life."

Lydia doesn't say anything, but Allison squeezes her hand and feels an answering pressure immediately.

"Having a kid," Allison concludes, "is going to change our lives."

Silence. Then Lydia snorts and smiles against Allison's shoulder.

"That's an incredible understatement," she says. Allison starts to pull away, but Lydia wraps her arms around Allison's and tugs her back down. "No, no, I'm not making fun of you, I swear. It's just...you know it's not going to happen right _now_ , right?"

"It certainly feels like it is," Allison grumbles. "Like, it could happen two years from now and I'd probably be all, _didn't we_ just _talk about this yesterday?_ "

"Sounds like you." Lydia sits up and presses a kiss against her cheek. "But that happens to everyone, I think, even the most prepared couple. No one really knows what they're getting into when they start having kids."

"Is that supposed to reassure me?"

"Sort of. Mostly what I mean is, I feel unprepared to have kids, too. I want them sooner rather than later, but I want us to be together in our...floundering."

Allison shifts around until she's lying with her head in Lydia's lap, staring up at her. "I guess it's good to know I'm not alone in freaking out," she says. "That is some excellent compartmentalization you've got going on."

Lydia smiles. "Had a lot of practice, what with all the werewolves and SATs happening at the same time. Anyway, we're married, remember?"

"Vaguely."

"So, we're in this together. I want to talk about our options, _together_ , so we can work all of this stuff out, _together_." She runs the tip of her finger from the top of Allison's cheek to her lips. "Do you think we can do that?"

Allison captures her hand and kisses its palm. "Yeah, I think we can manage that."


End file.
